The Unpretenders - Chapter 19

Two hundred and fifty-seven text messages. One hundred and twelve e-mails. Eight old-fashioned letters, including one very welcome offer from a literary agent, who sought to represent me. Oh, and a surprise parcel from Melody. Quite why she'd sent me a pair of expensive running shoes, I had no idea. But apparently she wanted to meet me again, that evening, and recommended that I wear them. 

It was all highly intriguing. Not least because the address that she'd given me was the location of an old cinema, on the outskirts of town. It had been vacant for years, as far as I was aware, and had no obvious redeeming qualities. Most people considered it to be an eyesore, in fact, and I couldn't see any reason why she'd want to use it as a meeting point. Most puzzling of all, however, was Melody's postscript: "You'll find me on the roof."

Needless to say, I was still very much grounded, especially in the wake of my expulsion from school. I was also now guilty of blasphemy, apparently, for claiming to be God Almighty. A crime that warranted my father's belt (again), but which I managed to avoid (again) by proving my adolescence (again).

While I was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt, the first time it happened, there was now no reason to believe that my dad had anything but a prurient interest in my sexual development. Which technically meant that I was bribing him, of course: dropping my knickers in order to avoid punishment. What was next, I wondered. Flashing for candy bars? Stripping for cash? Whatever! I simply didn't care any more.

That evening, therefore, I snuck out of the house, in my comfy new trainers, and made my way to the abandoned cinema. It felt quite exciting, at first, until I remembered what a seedy area of town it was in. "Have you lost your mummy?" asked one disheveled old man, who stank of urine. Obviously I looked a lot younger than my age, but still! For a moment I considered asking him whether he had lost his self-respect, but then I thought better of it, and kept my mouth shut.

Neighbouring the dilapidated cinema there was a massage parlour. And between the two buildings I noticed a narrow alleyway, which I proceeded into. I then climbed a somewhat rickety fire escape to a platform at the top, where I found two doors. One of them apparently led into the cinema itself, which was locked, and the other apparently led onto the roof, via a small stairwell, which I hastily ascended.

I was quite expecting to see a jovial Melody awaiting me at the top. What I found instead, however, was a veritable lair of Unpretenders, all wearing their symbolic unity masks. One of them was hanging up-side down from the frame of an advertising hoarding, another was perched precariously on the corner of the roof, like some sort of living gargoyle. I counted seven of them in all, before being spotted.

Melody removed her mask, straight away, and appeared delighted at my arrival. "I wasn't sure whether you'd come," she said, hugging me. "Glad to see you're wearing the trainers."

"How did you know my size?" I enquired.

"I asked Julian, of course."

"But how did Julian know?"

Melody shrugged. "I stopped asking questions like that a long time ago," she replied. "Come on, I'll introduce you to the gang."

"Aren't they going to take their masks off?"

"Why? Does our true face disturb you?"

"No, it's just that..."

"What?"

"Oh, never mind."

"Well, this is you," she continued, referring to the person who was hanging upside-down. "That guy over there, he's you. The one on the corner, that's you. Those three layabouts are all you. And, of course, I'm you as well."

"Hello everyone," I said, playing along. "I'm you."

Melody laughed. I laughed. And then everybody took their masks off.

"We're freerunners," she revealed.

"Ah, that would make sense," I nodded.

"Only, we're the best freerunners in the world."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Because we cheat."

"Cheat? How can you cheat are freerunning?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet, Sophie? Come on! You really only need to make a small leap, in your own mind."

"A small leap between what?"

"Between what you already know, and its application."

"In that case, tell me what it is you think I know."

"You know that the spoken word has incredible power. Awesome power. Ultimate power. However, you also know that its impact is proportional to one's level of consciousness; to the extent that one has realised their true self, and freed themselves from the shackles of worldly conditioning. Furthermore, you know that in a dream, especially in a lucid dream, words can be used to create, control and modify the environment; to practise one's own omnipotence, essentially. And, crucially, you know that physical reality itself is nothing more than a dream. Do you see what I'm saying here? Those are the pieces of the puzzle. Now put them all together."

The long silence that followed was due to my shock and disbelief at the extraordinary implications of what she appeared to be alluding to. For the truth, it seemed, was orders of magnitude greater and more profound than anything that I had previously dared to imagine. "I think I'm going to be sick," I said, feeling slightly disoriented.

Melody continued: "Cool, huh? Athletes have been attempting to use this knowledge for decades, in order to gain an edge. Consider, for example, using 'faster' on the running track, or a well-timed 'higher' when the bar has been raised beyond one's natural ability to clear it."

"So you're saying that some of the top athletes may actually be cheating?"

"It's possible, but unlikely. You see, athletes are pursuing personal glory. They're coming from a place of ego, in other words. So whilst their words may have an effect in training, they rarely do in competition. That's not the case with freerunning."

"Okay, show me."

"Daniel, would you mind?" said Melody.

Anticipating, with horror, what was seemingly about to happen, I questioned whether such a dramatic demonstration was really necessary.

Daniel looked confidently down at the pavement below. "I've done it before," he assured me.

"But we must be three storeys up!"

"More like four," he admitted. "But the height's not a problem, as long as I can control my rate of descent. Which I can. The keyword, in this case, being 'slower', obviously."

In the end, I could only watch him through the slits between my fingers. And even then I had to close my eyes at the last moment, just as he was about to hit the ground.

"Look, he's fine," said Melody.

Indeed. I peered down with relief to see Daniel giving the thumbs-up, amid a small crowd of bewildered onlookers.

"Come, let's play," she urged, running onto a neighbouring rooftop. Everyone immediately followed, including myself. Only, it didn't stop there. For there were many interconnecting rooftops to traverse, many obstacles, many gaps to negotiate, heights to scale and drops to brave. And, as I struggled to keep up with the others, I found myself almost instinctively using words to improve my performance: Higher! Faster! Further!

I then noticed Melody running towards a seemingly insurmountable space between two buildings. However, instead of attempting to leap the full distance, as I was expecting, she instead curled up into a ball, in mid-air, and glided effortlessly across to the other side.

I stopped to catch my breath. "Unbelievable," I gasped. "What the hell kind of word was that?"

"Float," she hollered back, making it sound so simple. In fact, I was almost tempted to try it myself... until I realised that nobody else had followed her over there.